


Limo

by Nightdog_Barks



Category: House M.D. RPF
Genre: Friendship, Gen, RPF, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-08
Updated: 2009-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightdog_Barks/pseuds/Nightdog_Barks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HL and RSL, on their way to the People's Choice Awards, 1/7/09.  535 words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limo

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first halfway-serious RPF I've ever written, and was sparked by HL's "Best TV Drama" acceptance speech last night at the PCA. The LJ-cut text is from "That's Entertainment," from the movie _The Band Wagon_.

_**_House_ Nanofic: Limo**_  
 **TITLE:** Limo  
 **AUTHOR:** [](http://nightdog-writes.livejournal.com/profile)[**nightdog_writes**](http://nightdog-writes.livejournal.com/)  
 **CHARACTERS:** HL and RSL, mentions of others. **This is a gen RPF.**  
 **RATING:** PG-13  
 **WARNINGS:** None, although it is a bit ... fluffy.  
 **SPOILERS:** Only in a very general sense, for something that's been mentioned as occurring in Season 5.  
 **SUMMARY:** HL and RSL, on their way to the People's Choice Awards, 1/7/09. 535 words.  
 **DISCLAIMER:** Don't own 'em. Never will. No disrespect is intended or implied to these real people or their families; this was written in fun and as an exercise in imagination.  
 **AUTHOR NOTES:** This is the first halfway-serious RPF I've ever written, and was sparked by HL's "Best TV Drama" acceptance speech last night at the PCA. The LJ-cut text is from "That's Entertainment," from the movie _The Band Wagon_.  
 **BETA:** Not this time.

 **Limo**

  
Hugh looks over, then looks quickly away, out the limo window when the humming starts.

Robert, apparently oblivious, keeps humming. It's something soft and low; Hugh doesn't recognize it and thinks maybe it's something for the baby. Three months now and Robert has really settled into this fatherhood thing, holding abrupt, huddled meetings with Omar, wanting to talk to Keisha whenever she drops by the set, looking at Hugh as if he holds all the secrets of successful parenting.

"What?" Robert says.

Hugh starts, feels momentarily guilty for his obvious woolgathering.

"You're _singing_ ," he deflects, and is instantly rewarded with one of Robert's patented befuddled looks.

"I am not."

"You most certainly are," Hugh says in his most British of accents, and God, isn't it a relief to slip back into his natural voice after being a proper American bastard all day.

The palm trees and side streets of Los Angeles slide past the windows. It's still January, but it's the earliest of early springs in Southern California, and that means rainstorms and mud pouring down from the hills.

He's here for two more years, if he can stand it and if David doesn't run the show into the ground.

 _It's all a crapshoot anyway,_ Hugh thinks.

The limo glides silently along. Outside, on the street corners, only the tourists are trying to peer through the tinted windows to see who's inside; the real Angelenos ignore the stretch-car, disdaining it for what it is, a Hollywood shell game carrying the luck of the draw.

Robert's humming again, tapping his armrest, and this time Hugh recognizes the tune.

 _"Yo no soy marinero, soy capitan, soy capitan ... "_

Hugh chuckles, and Robert glances round.

"Richie Valens?" Hugh says.

Robert shrugs. "It was on TV the other night -- I remembered watching it when I was a kid so Gaby and I watched it together." His glasses are trying to slip down his nose a bit and he pushes them back up with one distracted finger. He blinks innocently, and for a moment he looks just like Wilson only an hour ago, waiting for House to tell him why he wanted to see him alone, at Mickey's Diner.

 _Your brother,_ Hugh thinks. _I'm going to tell you about David, and how Lucas found out --_

But all that's in the future, and Robert knows it anyway from the script meeting last Friday.

 _Crapshoot_ , Hugh thinks again, and wonders what Jo's doing right now, this moment.

 _"Para bailar La Bamba,"_ he sings, and grins at the surprise on Robert's face. _"Para bailar La Bamba, se necesita una poca de gracia, una poca de gracia pa'mi, pa'ti."_

Robert picks up the tune, and they sing together, not caring what the limo driver might think, even if he could hear them through the bulletproof partition.

 _"Ay arriba, ay arriba -- ay, arriba arriba, por ti seré, por ti seré, por ti seré -- "_

"I'm going to tell them you're going to sing," Hugh says.

"What? Oh, no you're not," Robert counters. His eyes narrow at Hugh's smile. "No. Come on, now, Hugh. You're not. No way."

Hugh grins and looks away, out the window.

"It's showtime," he says.

~ fin

  
 _In order to dance the Bamba,  
You need a little bit of grace.  
A little bit of grace,  
For me, for you ... _

  
More information about the film _La Bamba_ may be found [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Bamba_\(film\)#Soundtrack).  
The lyrics to the song _La Bamba_ are [here](http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/r/ritchie_valens/la_bamba.html).


End file.
